


Marking, Massages And Mementos

by Cerdic519



Series: Bewhipped! [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Arguing, Arguments, Caring Castiel, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Chastity Device, Cowboy Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Dildos, Doctor Sexy M.D., Edging, Emotional Dean, F/F, F/M, Fireman Castiel, Gay Sex, Gentle Dom Castiel, Guns, Hacking, Hickeys, Knotting, Lent, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Marking, Massage, Mechanic Dean, Multiple Orgasms, Professor Castiel, Sponsored orgasms, St. Patrick's Day, Texas, Tired Dean, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>March in a year of fluff, families, friends and the sort of full-force love and devotion in which professor Castiel has mechanic Dean totally bewhipped. Welcome to Ladies' Month. Linda Tran helps Dean see Cas through his recent disappointment, Charlie does something the far side of legal (no change there, then) and Aunt Naomi threatens a visit. Dean falls asleep under a car, while Cas makes (another) one of his fantasies come true. And Dean's wholly unholy Lenten experience means that an untimely visit from the local fire-truck gives Bobby a bad moment.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday 1st March

Linda Tran (whom Dean may or may not have been slightly scared of) worked in a bank, but as a hobby she also made clothes and ran her own little online shop. She could make a T-shirt of almost any design by working with a shop where her sister worked in town, and because they had all the right equipment, the garments were always of high quality. Normally it would have taken at least a week to make such a thing, but when Dean had said about the disastrous day he and Cas had just had, she had told him to swing by the shop and collect it on his way home from the garage.

Dean knew how much effort lecturing must have been for his husband that day. Cas would have done it because he was always the consummate professional, but he would be exhausted come the evening. Dean made sure to text him throughout the day to make sure he was doing okay, and was relieved that he did not seem too down. Or perhaps he was just hiding it well.

+~+~+

He arrived home, and unusually did not strip and don his collar. Cas looked at him in surprise as he entered the kitchen still fully clothed, but before he could say anything Dean thrust the bag at him. Cas stared in confusion, but pulled the t-shirt out. And stared.

“You remember the first time I slept in your bed”, Dean said softly. “My, uh, top got a bit wrecked, so I borrowed one of yours. I thought, you know, what with it being St. David's Day, the dragon was sort of appropriate.”

Cas smiled.

“And when I got it back, I slept with it for weeks because it smelled of you”, he said, his eyes watering. “But I thought it was lost?”

“Linda Tran made me up a copy”, Dean admitted shyly. “You like it?”

Cas gave him a look that was positively feral.

“Tonight you'll find out just how much!” he promised.

+~+~+

Oh boy, how Dean Winchester did!


	2. Friday 2nd March

What with all the stress of the visit, Dean had clean forgotten that he had promised Charlie that he would go LARPing with her and Dorothy that weekend. He arrived home to find her sat at their table, which did not surprise him in the least

“What's up?” she demanded at once. 

Damn, he could never keep anything from her. He sighed and explained about the visit. Her eyes narrowed.

“Bertha Watts?” she said, sounding definitely angry. “Fifty pushing a hundred, limps, wire glasses, and looks like she had a whole tree-trunk stuffed up her ass?”

“That's her”, Dean agreed. “You know her?”

“She works – hah! - in the same building as Dot”, Charlie said, and there was definitely anger in her voice. “She's told me before how the bitch enjoys throwing her weight around. Did she hurt Cas?”

Dean hesitated a fraction of a second too long before trying to brush her off. Charlie came a close second to him when it came to possessiveness over the angel, and she had the sort of abilities that made crossing her highly inadvisable, if not fatal. His denials spluttered to a halt.

“Yeah, he was really upset by the whole thing”, he admitted. “I don't think I've ever seen him so down. He was a bit better this morning, though.”

“Right!” Charlie growled. “We'll LARP some other time; you need this weekend with your man. Leave that harpy to me!”

Dean should have told her not to do whatever she was planning, but 1) he thought the cow deserved what was about to befall her, 2) Charlie was unstoppable when she got that look in her eye, and 3) Dean was scared (as in terrified) of her. Besides, the weekend was coming up fast, and he kinda hoped that Cas would manage to pull himself together over their bet.

All in the name of charity, of course!


	3. Saturday 3rd March

It was good sign that Cas had got up early, as Saturdays weren't his thing as a rule. Hoping that some sexy times would help him get over their recent disappointment, Dean washed and showered, then pulled on his dressing-gown and made his way downstairs. There was the delicious smell of a cooked breakfast drifting through the house, and even better, the smoke alarm wasn't going off. All those cooking lessons he'd given his husband must be finally paying off.

He ambled into the kitchen – and stopped dead. Cas was serving him his meal, but for once, food could not distract Dean from just staring. His husband was wearing a doctor's white coat, cowboy boots, and those bare legs meant that underneath... oh fuck! Dean actually felt light-headed as every drop of blood in his body made a sudden dash for his lower brain.

“Want you now!” he managed.

Cas grinned and hoisted himself up onto their kitchen table; Dean had wondered at the time why his husband had insisted on such a beast of a thing, but it was both strong enough and the perfect height for this, easily supporting the lighter man's weight (or his husband's). Dean uttered a silent prayer that he hadn't dressed, and was able to drive straight into his husband, who let out the sort of moan that a porn director would have paid mega bucks for. Except no-one got to hear those noises except the man who was now racing towards his first – and definitely not his last – orgasm of the day.

Dean suddenly realized that Cas must have prepped himself to be able to take him so easily, and the thought of that sent him crashing over the edge into an orgasm that actually made his head hurt, it was so intense. Hell, Cas could have charged him ten dollars a time, and Dean would have worked day and night to afford this. Nothing beat this feeling of complete and utter.....

He yelped in a somewhat unmanly manner as Cas himself came, his doctor's coat hanging open as he painted both their chests. Both men panted heavily, until Cas smiled at his husband.

“Breakfast?” he asked cheekily.

“Yeah, Doctor Sexy!” Dean panted. “And then Round Two!”

He had a strong feeling that Lent might be even more expensive than he had first thought, but it would be worth it. If he survived!


	4. Sunday 4th March

Only Cas could turn a thing marking abstinence into a sex-fest, Dean thought tiredly as he lay in bed the next morning. Cas had spent the whole day around the house yesterday, dressed as Doctor Sexy, and Dean – well, Dean was only human! He could not resist his husband at the best of times, and now.....

Little Dean winced in protest at the memory, but Dean just told him to shut up. Especially as it was still Sunday, which meant.... yup, the shower had turned off, which meant Cas was coming back to the bedroom. Well, Little Dean would just have to have extra ointment later. 

Dean smirked at his husband, only for said smirk to vanish out the door at high speed. Cas was wearing the cowboy boots again, and was also wearing a cowboy hat. Just not on his head. 

Cas smiled knowingly at him.

“I believe there's an saying out West”, he drawled. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy? Time to pony up, Dean!”

Dean had never gotten onto his hands and knees so quickly before!

+~+~+

Well, the good news was that orgasms apart, at least Little Dean was getting some rest today. The bad news was that Cas insisted on riding Dean all round the house, and even stayed inside him when they were watching TV. The smug bastard must have planned this beforehand, because unusually he had all their meals prepared so they just needed to be shot in the microwave, which he tended to avoid. Still, at least Dean would always have a happy memory every time he saw a western from now on. Yee-hie!


	5. Monday 5th March

When Dean limped into the garage that morning (thank God for whoever invented padded office chairs!), he found he had a reminder from Charlie, stating simply '1/5'. They had talked some time back about the importance of keeping relationships going and occasionally surprising their partners, so the two of the would do some small thing for Dorothy and Cas at seemingly random times throughout the year. Dean had had two ideas for the first two surprises of which the t-shirt had been one, but in light of everything his husband had been through (and yeah, in gratitude for those wonderful weekends!) Dean decided to use the other idea now.

He collected the book – on astronomy, one of Cas' many weird hobbies – from the store at lunchtime, and took it back to the garage. It was oddly fascinating, and he blushed when Bobby caught him reading it instead of working later that day. Fortunately the old man must have guessed it was for Cas, and he said nothing.

He did smirk, though! Hmph!

Dean got home on time and before Cas, closing the curtains then stripping off and donning his collar, before padding into the kitchen to start dinner. Cas' kitchen abilities were definitely improving, but Dean loved his husband too much to subject him too much to his own culinary efforts for too long. 

Everything was was cooking nicely when he heard the pimpmobile pull up in the garage, and knew Cas would be coming through the connecting door into the kitchen in under a minute. Quickly, he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down facing the door, the book covering his cock. 

Cas came through and smirked when he saw his welcome. Then he recognized that the book was not one of his own, and his eyes widened.

“For me?” he asked tremulously, his lip quivering in that oh so cute way of his. That was one of the oh so many things Dean loved about Cas. For all his kindness and goodness towards others, he always found it surprising when people did things for him. 

“Just for you, beloved”, Dean said softly.

“Thank you”, Cas said, his eyes damp with emotion. “Now, what would you like as your reward?”

Ah.


	6. Tuesday 6th March

Dean had almost finished working on a crappy European car in the garage that morning – he was still moving gingerly after Cas' 'reward' the night before - when Charlie arrived in a flurry of red hair. She had a copy of the local paper, the Empire-Tribune. 

“Can't stop”, she panted. “Dot and I are going to help out at her niece's third birthday bash; two parents got called into hospital, and it's all hands to the pump. Read page two. Bye!”

And with that she was gone. Dean sighed, wiped his hands on an old rag that probably got more dirt onto than off of him, and did as he was told. With Charlie that was always the best option. 

Moments later, he was grinning from ear to ear. God, he loved that girl! Even if her grasp of the law and criminality was..... unique.

+~+~+

Luckily Bobby was okay with him working through his lunch break and heading off early to intercept his husband at the college. And Martha at reception told him that Cas' lectures were done for the day and he would most likely be in his room (i.e. broom cupboard), marking. Dean fairly burst into said room, startling his husband somewhat.

“That can wait till tomorrow”, Dean said gleefully. “We're dining out tonight.”

“What's the occasion?” Cas asked, clearly confused. Dean waved the paper at him.

“It seems that a certain 'Ms.' Bertha Watts has been suspended from her work with Child Services, after a check on her computer revealed severe financial malpractice”, Dean grinned. “And best of all, every case she's had in the past year is being reviewed. Cas, we've got another... oof!”

His sentence was somewhat curtailed by a sobbing husband throwing himself at him and kissing the living daylights out of him. To which Dean Winchester had marginally less than zero objections.

+~+~+

Okay, Dean had been wrong. The broom-cupboard was big enough!


	7. Wednesday 7th March

Cas was annoyed.

“I'm covering Professor Masters' class today, and I need that red top of mine”, he grouched. “Have you borrowed it, Dean?”

“Nope”, his husband muttered sleepily from the bed. “And why are you doing a favor for that harpy?”

“Professor Masters is not a Greek mythical being, Dean”, Cas said patiently. “She has a family event, and has asked me to cover for her.”

“She just wants to get into your pants”, Dean said darkly. He had seen the way the pixie-sized professor had looked at his husband one time, and Cas had teased him for growling at her. He did not growl! It was just a cough that had come out sounding like..... a growl.

“Dean?”

He blinked and looked across at his husband – and paled. Cas was holding his old bundled-up trench-coat from when they had both been sixteen, tattered and (Dean had thought) safely hidden at the bottom of the wardrobe. Cas shook it out, looking confused.

“This is the coat I had as a kid”, he said, clearly stumped. “I thought it had been thrown away.”

Dean was now blushing bright red. His husband looked at him curiously.

“Was when you had to go to England for your uncle's funeral”, Dean muttered. “That damned coat was all I had left of you, and I didn't even know if you were coming back to me.” He tried to sink down even deeper into the memory foam.

“Dean”, Cas said softly, “I will always come back to you. And this..... this is so cutesy-wootsey!”

Dean slid under the covers and hid. What was left of his manliness started looking for a(nother) white flag.


	8. Thursday 8th March

A heavy blizzard had blown in unexpectedly overnight – damn weathermen with their fancy computers had been sure the thing was headed for Lubbock and Amarillo, but apparently it had made a sharp right at the last minute and had covered the town in a heavy blanket of snow. Which led, of course, to the usual argument.

“No, Cas!” Dean said firmly. “I am not letting you drive that pimpmobile on roads like this. One, it is way too light, two, it has no grip, and three, I haven't had it in the garage for its post-winter check-up yet. I'll take you to the college in Baby, and pick you up this evening.”

“But Dean....”

“No!” Dean said, a little too forcibly. “Cas, if you were out there on these roads, I'd worry all day, and I'd... I'd....

Dammit, he was not crying. He was not! 

Cas eased into his arms and kissed him gently on the lips.

“If it makes you happier, then of course you can drive me in”, he said, following that up with another kiss. “Baby would do better on the snow that my car, I know that. And I love that you care for me so much, Dean.”

“Yeah?” Dean said hopefully. “We could go down now and have some fun on the bench-seat....”

“Dean!”

“Sorry, Cas.”

His husband grinned at him.

“Let's make it something to look forward to when you pick me up tonight!”

Now that was just mean! Dean was gonna be hard all day, dammit!


	9. Friday 9th March

Mercifully the blizzard had blown through quickly enough, and at least the main roads were now clear. However, the estate roads were a mess of black ice, which meant that Cas was not allowed to drive the pimpmobile out until Dean had given it a thorough check.

Cas only objected when Dean told he he was driving him to college, and would sort the car out during his lunch break (a lie; Bobby loved Cas like everyone else, and would make sure Dean had more than enough time to deal with his monstrosity of a car, if only because having the disgrace to cardom in the garage set the old man's teeth on edge). Dean would then collect Cas on his way home, by which time the snow should pretty much have gone.

“So you won't let me drive my car, but it's okay for you?” Cas asked, quirking an eyebrow at his husband. 

Dean scowled. He knew it wasn't logical, especially given that Cas was a much safer driver than he was, but he felt edgy enough about that excuse for a road vehicle as it was. Giving it a twice-yearly check-up was, in all honesty, as much for Dean's peace of mind as his husband's safety. Probably more so.

“Okay, you can drive us to college and back”, he conceded. “It's bad enough that I have to let the guys at work see my husband's choice of vehicle. They'll think you only married me so you could drive Baby.”

He looked up and jumped. Cas, moving in that stealthy silent way of his, had closed the distance between them, and was right inside Dean's personal space. And there was a look on his face that suggested Very Good Things might lie in the not-too-distant future for a certain mechanic.

“Then we had better head upstairs and I will forcibly demonstrate exactly why I did marry you”, Castiel growled. “Just remember – don't blame me when you can't sit down later today!”

Dean whimpered. And it wasn't even a manly whimper!


	10. Saturday 10th March

What with the weather and everything else of late, the weekend had managed to creep up on Dean unannounced, so he was only semi-awake as he lumbered downstairs that morning. Even the fact that Mr. Comatose was not snuggled up in their duvet, fiercely resisting all attempts to coax him into the outside world, didn't really register with his tired brain as he lurched into the kitchen.

And stopped dead. Cas stood at the stove wearing nothing but that ridiculous bent angel halo and that long white cloak that was designed to look like a pair of huge white wings. Yeah, that registered alright, at least with his lower brain. The sudden rush of blood to which made Dean almost fall over his own feet.

God, that took him back. Just after he and Cas had finally made the leap from good friends to boyfriends, Sammy's birthday had rolled around, and Cas had turned up in the costume he was now wearing (okay, maybe he had had slightly more on underneath back then!). And Dean had melted at the sight, Cas taking him the short distance back to his own mercifully empty house, where.... yup, Dean Winchester had taken it up the ass. And all that stuff he'd read about the male prostate being sensitive? He'd found out the 'hard' way just how true it had been!

“You're trying to kill me here!” Dean grumbled as he strode across the room to embrace his husband, pushing the tiresome cloak out of the way so he could nestle his now very awake cock against his husband's butt. Cas nestled back into him and chuckled darkly. Dean's eyes widened as his cock slipped easily inside his husband. Little fucker had already prepped himself, dammit!

“Yeah”, Cas admitted, pulling his husband even closer. “But what a way to go!”

He clenched his buttocks just once, and Dean went off like a rocket.


	11. Sunday 11th March

It could be stated quite categorically that Dean Winchester was not creeping around his own house of a Sunday, terrified as to what tortures his husband had lined up for him. Yup, that could most definitely be stated loud at clear. It would have been a lie, but it could have been stated. And the way in which Dean stuck his head tentatively into the living-room was probably a fair indication of just how worried he was, even if the slight shake to his frame didn't give it away. 

There was a note left on the kitchen table. Dean read it, and relaxed at once. Cas had gone out to fetch them breakfast from a local diner. Presumably he hadn't felt like cooking himself that morning, and there was a whole set of diners on the way into town. Despite the way his husband monitored his calorie intake, he did allow Dean diner food sometimes. 

Allow. Huh, Sammy was right. He was totally whipped.

He heard the sound of the pimpmobile clanking to a halt in their garage, and moments later Cas came through the door. Dean turned to greet him.

“So what did you... holy fuck!”

Cas was holding what looked like takeout from Whataburger, but for once food took a distant second to Dean's eyes. Because Cas was dressed as a fireman, down to the belt and tight top from the town's fire department. A top that showed Cas' muscular form off to perfection.

“Food first”, Cas grinned. “Then I intend to hoist you upstairs and have my way with you, Dean Winchester!”

Dean had never not wanted burgers so badly! And the sexy bastard still made him wait, dammit!


	12. Monday 12th March

Normally the gods of luck conspired to dump on Dean every thirteenth of the month. This month, however, it seemed they were starting early.

Bobby's friend Rufus Turner was the local chief of police, so when his boss mentioned to Dean that a service vehicle would be coming in that morning, and could Dean see to it, he naturally assumed that it was a police car. Unfortunately, it was not his day. He had forgotten that Rufus' son Jet worked at the fire-station, so when the latter pulled up in the number 2 truck, Dean blushed deeply.

“Well, son, what're you staring at?” Bobby demanded, coming up behind him. Dean turned to face him, wondering how on earth he was going to explain about his recent fireman-related activities without explaining about them. Fortunately, his boss knew him well.

“Oh hell!” he grunted. “This is something about you and that husband of yours, isn't it? For pity's sake spare me the details and just get the damn thing working!”

He stormed inside and slammed the door behind him. Jet chuckled.

“I take it you and Cas have been doing a little role-play?” he teased.

“Don't ask unless you want all the details”, Dean said firmly. “Though now you mention it.....”

+~+~+

Cas was surprised to arrive home and, for once, find his collared husband not naked. But he heartily approved of the local fire department top, which Dean had got a size too tight. The top did not survive the evening. Dean did – just!


	13. Tuesday 13th March

Dean was just waiting all day for something to go wrong. Cas had told him that that sort of attitude made disaster more likely, but Dean had tried positive thinking, and it only made the eventual and certain crash even worse. Nope, on the thirteenth he always expected the worst and he was rarely disappointed.

Disaster finally struck in the form of some weird foreign car whose make sign had been prized off the back, and whose innards were a mystery even to a seasoned mechanic like Dean. Which might explain why he was trying to loosen a recalcitrant nut in the engine when, without warning, it suddenly doused him with oil. At least his overalls took the worst of it, and he was able to head out back and change. 

Except that, today, the gods really did have it in for him. He had thrown the overalls in the wash-basket (Bobby got them all cleaned weekly in return for free repairs to the local laundromat owner's car) and had gone over to get another pair from the box under the table. As he pulled them out, he somehow managed to slip and went down onto the floor, grabbing at the table as he did so. And of course he managed to pull at the makeshift tablecloth, dragging two abandoned cups of cold coffee onto his clean top.

Fuck!

+~+~+

There was, though, a very small compensation. He had just placed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket (Cas insisted on their only doing laundry at weekends, so he could save the planet by using the rotary line in the back garden) when his husband came home. And that was one of the many wonderful things about Cas; he could detect automatically if his husband was down at all, and he insisted on their ordering pizza, donning their dressing-gowns and snuggling in front of some mindless TV. It was pure bliss!

+~+~+

It was even purer bliss later, when Cas fucked him senseless! Dean officially had the best husband ever!


	14. Wednesday 14th March

Dean arrived home after another difficult day – quite what that woman with the Taurus had done to her car belonged on Unsolved Mysteries - and reached for his collar, only to find it wasn't there. In its place was a folded piece of paper, a note from his husband:

'Stay clothed tonight. I will bring pizza when I get home around six.   
Love, Cas'.

Odd, Dean thought. Take-out twice in one week. Cas was... dammit, Cas was looking after him again. 

He was not going to cry. Or at least, he would make sure there was no evidence of his not crying by the time his husband got home. Though Cas would almost certainly know regardless. When they had first met, Dean had been a bundle of insecurities and daddy-issues, especially the latter with his father's botched raising of him and Sam (Cas had told him on more than one occasion that it had been abuse, pure and simple). For years Dean had thought that he didn't deserve happiness, until Cas had made him see otherwise. 

His husband could be damned persuasive!

+~+~+

After dinner, Cas did ask Dean to get naked, though he did not produce the collar. Instead, he got Dean to lie face down on the knitted blanket he had made for their house (yeah, Dean had asked for one, in green and blue squares), and knelt between his legs. Dean tensed – until he felt the gentle rub of oil on his back.

“Massage oil”, Cas said gently. “I know the way you think, Dean Winchester, especially after all you've been through lately. Well, good things do happen, and you do deserve them. And tonight I am going to massage all the tension right out of that glorious body of yours.”

Dean sighed happily. He did wonder though.....

“And yes, there will be sex later.”

Best. Husband. Ever!


	15. Thursday 15th March

Dean would have been among the first to admit that he was not the most organized of guys; hell, he was sure that his forgetfulness drove his husband to distraction more often than not. So it had completely slipped his mind that this evening would be different.

He arrived home and looked for his collar, only to find that once more it was missing from its usual drawer. Instead there was a note stating simply 'Thursday'. He stared at it in confusion.

“Cas?” he called out hopefully.

It was a bust, he knew. The house felt definitely Cas-less. Puzzled, he walked through to the kitchen, wondering at yet another change of plan. 

There was a post-it stuck to the fridge, reading simply 'bet you forgot'. Of course Dean had forgotten...... whatever it was he had forgotten. He opened the fridge to look for a beer, then started in surprise. There was a shrink-wrap covered slice of pie, a small jar of Cas' home-made custard, and a plate of sandwiches. There was also a note:

'Knew you'd forget that tonight was my meeting with the Beekeepers' Club, so I left you dinner. There is a bag of chips – your favorite - in the cupboard, and you are allowed ONE beer from the fridge. I know how many I bought, so don't even think about having more! I shall be back at nine or half-past at the latest; the club is serving snacks, but I shall be hungry enough for what you call 'proper food' when I get home. I shall text you when I leave, so you can pop in the meatfeast pizza I bought that is in the freezer.  
Love,  
Cas'

And the sandwiches were done with fresh bread as well. Dean may or may not have shed a few tears as he took his food into the living-room. But they were manly tears, dammit!


	16. Friday 16th March

Dean supposed it was working in the high-stress environment of education, but there were relatively few things that could ruffle the feathers of his angelic husband. Unfortunately one of them arrived in the post that morning, just as Cas was about to leave. He read the letter and looked at Dean in alarm.

“It's Aunt Naomi!” he blurted out. “She wants to come and visit.”

“Hell no!”

+~+~+

Even with the diverse characters (Dean was being tactful here) in Cas' wide family circle, his aunt was something else. His mother Becky was a complete flake, but harmless enough; indeed she had been positively gushing over Dean and Cas being together (he was pretty sure that, at one point, she had actually pinched his butt!). Cas' aunt, on the other hand, was loathsome! She belonged to one of those hell-fire and damnation churches who were rock-solid certain that everyone who did not obey their interpretation of the Bible was going to Hell, and that the church followers should make a start by making the lives of said persons hell on Earth. She had sat through the wedding service glaring at them both with icy disapproval, and Dean had uttered up a silent prayer of thanks that she didn't take up the 'any objections' offer from the priest. If she had, he'd have found a novel use for one of the bouquets!

Chuck and Becky, along with most of Cas' too-numerous siblings, lived and worked around the Dallas-Fort Worth area, but Aunt Naomi had a house in the Hamptons, up in New York. She had inherited it from her late husband ('chap probably thought death was quieter' Dean had snarked; Cas had whacked him but agreed), and so was rarely seen this far west. Lucky Texas!

“She is staying with mom and dad”, Cas said, relaxing just a little, “and they would like to bring her down for the day to see us.”

“And see the new house themselves”, Dean said with a sigh. Though to be fair, Chuck and Becky had given them a generous wedding present which had helped pay for the house. “Fine. One day. But if she starts off on one of her rants, Fluffy will have company out back!”

Cas whacked him. But, Dean noted, he didn't actually say no.....


	17. Saturday 17th March

It was Saturday. And Cas was still in bed.

Dean's cock may have uttered a very silent cheer. Perhaps, just perhaps Mr. Castiel Winchester was actually going to ease off today, and let Dean have a relaxing weekend. Perhaps he might...

Cas yawned and, unusually, dug himself out of his little nest without threats of bodily harm or offers of free sex. He stood up – and Dean's jaw fairly dropped. Without his noticing, Cas had gone from his normal bed wear (bupkis) to a pair of lacy green panties with 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish!' emblazoned on them in big letters. And then the bastard actually waggled his butt at Dean before sashaying into the bathroom.

Look, Dean was only human! And it was St. Patrick's Day, dammit!

+~+~+

Cas, of course, had planned everything. Their shopping was delivered early, so Dean had no reason to go out. Not that he wanted to, with six foot of quasi-Irish goodness being dangled temptingly before him every few minutes. After a few rounds he decided to dump his clothes and just wear the dressing-gown all day. Saved valuable seconds, after all!

He thought his luck was well and truly out, however, when Delilah Menzies came round with a letter that the idiot postman had wrongly placed in her mailbox. She stared disapprovingly at his being in his dressing-gown late morning, probably thinking that he was just lazy (in truth he was being very energetic, albeit in short bursts!). He guessed from her looking past him that she wanted to see what they had done to the place, but after the way she and her husband had treated Cas that time, no way!

The fact that his panty-clad husband was two rooms away in the kitchen may, just possibly, also have been a factor. And the cow dallied on the path back to her house, which meant Dean was held back from his next round by nearly thirty seconds! Which was damn hard!

In both senses!


	18. Sunday 18th March

Dean had been left shattered by Cas' 'Irish adventure' the day before, and he woke slowly from his slumbers that morning, tentatively testing out his muscles to make sure they were still working before easing out of bed and heading to the shower. The fact that Cas was already gone unnerved him, but he would just have to suck it up.

Suck it up. Hah!

Cas usually set out his clothes for him on the top of their chest of drawers, but today there was just his collar. Dean slipped it on and went downstairs naked, wondering what torture his inventive husband would inflict on him today. Well, it was all for charity.

He walked into the kitchen – and froze. Cas was sat at the table marking papers, and Dean had a fine view of his nerd of a husband in his full professor uniform; waistcoat, shirt, tie (tied wrongly) and glasses. Except that the professor stopped at the belt, as Cas had left off his pants. And underwear. Oh, and there was a kneeling pad under the table. 

Dean gulped, but went and knelt on the pad, carefully taking Cas' already semi-hard cock into his mouth. His husband's increasingly ragged breathing was rewarding but he wanted more, and increased his efforts until, finally, Cas came in his mouth. 

“Equality”, Cas muttered once his breathing was back to normal.

“Huh?”

Cas raised Dean till he was standing, then without warning knelt and promptly went to town on Little Dean. His husband let out a keening noise that may even have reached next door, as Cas brought him to orgasm in what was probably not much more than a minute. Dean's eyes watered as Cas cleaned him up.

“Now your turn again”, Cas said, gesturing to the pad.

Dean didn't cry. Little Dean may have, though!


	19. Monday 19th March

The atmosphere in the garage's small lunch room was chilly. Dean glared around at his co-workers, who were clearly trying not to laugh at him. And failing spectacularly. 

Yeah, so all that sex with Cas had tired him out. It wasn't Dean's fault that he'd fallen asleep having rolled himself under a 4x4. And now the guys were passing around the phones on which they'd taken pictures of him snoring happily away. Bastards!

“Come on, you idjits, get back to work!” Bobby snapped. “I don't pay you all to sit round gossiping like a bunch of girls all day!”

Dean looked at his surrogate father gratefully. Bobby smirks at him.

“Besides, 's'not Dean's fault that that husband of his wore him out!”

Alright, maybe not that gratefully.

+~+~+

One of his soon-to-be-ex-friends must have texted Cas the picture, because when Dean clambered into his husband's lap that evening, he grinned knowingly at him. Dean pouted.

“A man's got no privacy these days!” Dean complained.

“Sorry”, Cas said, clearly unrepentant. “Tell you what; tomorrow you can wear the black panties to work. Be around all your colleagues knowing that you're keeping a dirty little secret from them just beneath those sexy overalls. And one that only I will get to unwrap at the end of the day.”

Dean moaned. Still, it was something to look forward to.....


	20. Tuesday 20th March

It had been a hard day at work. Especially with those panties rubbing against him all the time. 

Very, very hard!

Dean almost ran into the house that evening, stripping down to just the panties and walking into the living-room, only to be confronted with a whole load of covers over all the furniture. He stared around in confusion.

Cas popped his head through the kitchen door.

“You forgot, didn't you?” he grinned.

Dean reddened. “Yeah”, he admitted. “Uh, what did I forget?”

“Andrea and I arranged for both our chimneys to be swept today”, Cas said. “She let him in here; he only left five minutes ago, and said he'd come back for the covers tomorrow once all the dust had settled.”

“So we can't use the living-room?” Dean asked. “No TV?”

Cas was suddenly across the room and right in his personal space. He ran his hand down his husband's chest to where the panties were suddenly a bit tighter.

“Oh, I suppose we can think of some way to pass the time”, he growled.

Dean leaned into his touch, his eyes closing in anticipation. Cas chuckled darkly.

“Food first”, he said. “Play later.”

“Cas!” It was not a whine, no matter how much it sounded like one.

“There's pie.”

“Alright”, Dean grumbled. “I'll behave.”

“Pity!” And the bastard goosed him as he walked away! Honestly, why did Dean put up with him?

Oh yeah. That was why. Dean grinned at the memory.


	21. Wednesday 21st March

“I want you to mark me.”

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. Yeah, he loved it when Cas left hickeys on him, especially where the guys at work could see and be jealous that he had such a hot husband, but Cas was pretty neutral about him returning the favor, and when Dean did take charge, there were many, many other things that he preferred to do instead. He stared at his husband curiously.

“Crowley”, Cas said darkly.

Ah. Fergus Crowley, general dick and visiting British professor at the college, who had made it quite clear that he wanted to get into Cas' pants. The first time Cas had mentioned him, Dean had wanted to go round to the bastard's house and beat the crap out of him, but his clever husband had managed to distract him with sex. Twice! 

“Tonight?” Dean asked.

“No”, Cas said. “I have to have a meeting with him tomorrow at four, after classes are done. Can you ask Bobby to let you out of the garage early, so you can come and do it then?”

Dean's eyes watered as all his blood rushed straight for his lower brain.

“You want to meet him with us just having had sex?” he grinned. “Kinky!”

“I want the full works”, Cas said darkly. “A smudge of oil, a hickey, and my room reeking of sex when he arrives. I want him to know that I am already taken, and I want him to see just how big and strong you are.”

“Hey, I am an alpha male”, Dean boasted.

“Then, after I am done, I will be coming home and fucking you repeatedly into the mattress while making you wear a cock-ring”, Cas said primly. 

Dean's eyes widened. Yup, there was only one alpha male in this household! And his name did not start with a 'D'!


	22. Thursday 22nd March

Dean had not been impressed by Fergus Crowley, a rotund, self-satisfied little man who was so far out of Cas' league that it had been laughable. Though the disappointed look on the Brit's face as Dean had passed him in the doorway – yeah, that had been good!

Cas distracted him from his happy memories by casually running a hand along Dean's painfully-erect cock, eliciting a pained moan. He had indeed fulfilled his promise (threat?) of pounding his husband into their mattress until Dean had had to be helped downstairs. And now the mechanic was sat in the kitchen, wondering if it was indeed possible to break a cock-ring through pressure. 

Because Cas, of course, had not left it there. Whilst preparing their meal he had kept stopping to run his hand along his husband's still-erect cock, making Dean moan every single time, dammit! This was one of Cas' little quirks; when he got stressed, he would constantly drive Dean to the edge of orgasm and then stop, making his husband beg for release. And Dean's pride having yet again decamped with his dignity and manliness for an indefinite stay in Acapulco, he begged. God, how he begged!

And just when he thought the teasing could not get any more intense, Cas pulled up the large dining-chair, then shucked his own clothes in record time and sat down, gesturing for Dean to come and take his place. The only good thing was that Dean was so loose by this time that he slipped down easily – except that Cas, the bastard, was deliberately avoiding his prostate. Dean actually cried.

He was so caught up in his emotions that he didn't notice Cas loosening the cock-ring, until his husband suddenly hit his prostate full-on. Dean yelped as Cas' hand wrapped around his cock, jerking a surprise orgasm that had him painting the tiled floor – he was still gonna install hardwood this year, dammit! – and crying in relief as the pressure in his balls finally eased. Done, he collapsed onto his husband like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“I'm gonna have to get Crowley to hit on me more often, if this is what I get as a result!” Cas whispered.

Dean would have pouted, but he just didn't have the energy.


	23. Friday 23rd March

In return for helping him out with the Crowley situation at work, Cas had promised Dean 'something special' that evening'. Dean was not sure whether to be grateful or terrified, especially with another weekend coming up. Fortunately work was more than busy enough to take his mind off of the threat-cum-promise. By the time he came home he was exhausted, and grateful that his husband was there and had dinner cooking.

Cas had spread out their blanket on the floor in the living-room, and once dinner was finished, he insisted on drawing Dean a long hot bath. Normally that would have relaxed his husband, but now it only made him edgy. What was Cas planning that would need him to be relaxed?

“Do you trust me, Dean?”

Dean was naked, on his hands and knees, wearing a collar and totally at his husband's mercy. The old him would have come back with a snarky answer in seconds. The new him knew such a reaction would lead to severe punishment. Or worse, withholding of severe punishment.

“With my life, Cas”, he said with absolute certainty.

He felt Cas working him open, and pretty soon his husband had four fingers inside him. He wondered why he himself wasn't naked yet, but the familiar feel of plastic at his entrance answered that. Dildo time.

Cas pushed the thing into him gently, and Dean was comfortably full in under a minute. Still, this was not as good as..... what the fuck?

The dildo was actually swelling at the base just inside of him. And oh my God, it was doing things to his prostate that had to be illegal in all fifty states! And the fucking overseas territories! Dean let out a keening noise as Cas wrapped a hand around his cock and began to jerk him off, whilst his brain functions pretty much shut up shop and departed. Again.

He must have passed out, because when he awoke they were still on the blanket, Cas spooning him. And the slightest movement told him that, yeah, that damned thing was still inside of him, and if he moved ever so slightly...

Dean came again with a whimper, tears in his eyes. Then Cas kissed the back of his neck, and he smiled happily. At least until his upper brain, bastard that it was, reminded him that tomorrow was Saturday......


	24. Saturday 24th March

Dean was having a glorious dream that he was in one of those stories he only very occasionally chanced to read on the web, and that Cas was an alpha who was knotting and claiming him as......

Consciousness returned, and with it came two quick realizations. The first was that Cas was actually lying next to him and (oddly for a Saturday) awake, so the dream couldn't be true. Except the second was that something was definitely doing things to his prostate and making him race towards an orgasm that the man currently reaching over and jerking his cock was not helping deter. Dean whimpered and gave in, coming with a force that actually made his head ache.

“Huh?” he managed.

Cas grinned, and got out of bed. When Dean's vision kicked in, he realized his husband was standing there holding the remote. But the TV was downstairs.....

“That thing is staying in you all day, Dean”, Cas smirked. “And I can activate it any time I like. But look on the bright side.”

Dean stared at him in horror. 

“What bright side?” he said in what was definitely an unmanly squeak.

“No cock-ring”, Cas smiled as he headed for the bathroom. “A dollar a pop, and you can come as often as you like. All for a good cause, remember.”

Yeah, Dean thought, his eyes closing again. All for a.....

He yelped. Apparently the remote worked from the bathroom.

+~+~+

Dean had an exhausting day, although thankfully Benny's visit to drop off something that evening – Dean didn't recall what – was mercifully short, even if Dean was on edge the whole time. And Cas waited only until the front door had shut before giving him number 12. Or was it 13? 14?

This was turning out to be a damned expensive month!


	25. Sunday 25th March

Dean could just imagine the phone call: “Sorry, Sam, but I killed your brother through too much sex. At least he died with a smile on his face, though it might be 'hard' to get the coffin lid down!”

Because Castiel Winchester was some sort of evil genius. Never mind being named after an angel; he was positively demonic when it came to extracting repeated orgasms from his poor, beleaguered husband's broken body. And today – well, today he had surpassed himself!

Who the fuck knew that they sold male chastity belts these days? Damned world wide web, letting Cas find new ways to torture him. He had thought his husband just had a new set of panties for him to try, before he heard the fateful click of the padlock. And now he was Cas', to use as and when the mood took the angel. Which, predictably, was damned often!

Worse, Cas had actually dragged Dean to church that morning, and made him pull up round the back before unlocking the contraption and pounding into him like he was trying to find Mecca, then had made him stand in the pews whilst doing that sexy low growl of his that set Dean on edge. His cock had strained valiantly but there was no release, just a lot of eye-watering as people wondered why the taller Mr. Winchester was getting so emotional over a few hymns. And the bastard had made him wait all the way back to the house before taking him in the garage up against Baby, then locking him up again. Dean had rights, and he should not be putting up with this!

God, but it was so damned hot!

The only truly bad moment (not including the times Dean felt as if he was trying to come his brains out) was when Linda Tran brought back a book she had borrowed from Cas, and Dean had to hide in the utility room until she'd gone. Though the upside was that Cas found him there whilst the washing-machine was still going, so......

Thank God for the special ointment, otherwise Dean would definitely have had to take Monday off!


	26. Monday 26th March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Discussion of use of guns as a defensive weapon and gun rights (sorry for not adding this sooner).

It was supposed to be spring, but a heavy blanket of gray cloud hung over the town and did not seem overly inclined to move. It would reflect what was to be a difficult week for both of them.

Ever since the shootings at Fort Hood, which lay less than two hours south of the town, Dean had been quietly nervous (scared shitless) that some pothead or religious nut would choose Cas' college to go on a shooting spree. He had urged the guy to learn how to use a gun and carry one – this was Texas, after all – but his angel had always declined. Today, however, those fears were back in spades, as there had been a college shooting at a town this side of Fort Worth. True, the guy had been taken down by someone before he could inflict serious injuries on anyone, but it still made Dean edgy. And an edgy Dean did not always choose his words carefully.

Cas folded his arms and glared at his husband. Fortunately he understood that, when Dean wanted to Talk, he would keep his clothes on and collar off, but the professor would not be moved on having a gun.

“It doesn't make me feel safe, Dean”, he said. “I know some of the students have them – I've seen them – and I don't want to go into a classroom where both teacher and students are armed.”

“But we need guys like this one who took that nutjob down today”, Dean said pointedly. “If it hadn't been for him, who knows how many people he'd have shot before police arrived.”

Cas glared at him.

“So you're saying that I'm to blame for not...”

“No!” Dean almost shouted. “Just.... I'm scared, Cas! Scared for you, out there and unarmed. It makes me feel.....”

He trailed off, aware that he was crying. Cas sighed, opened his arms, and pulled his husband into a hug. 

They did not talk of the matter again.


	27. Tuesday 27th March

The argument on guns may have been shelved, but in its way it led to another argument the following morning. Dean had been worried that he'd texted Cas when he'd heard about the shooting, and his husband unusually hadn't responded. Cas had admitted that his phone was pretty much shot, so once home, Dean suggested buying a new one.

Cas looked at him as if he'd suggested going out and starting a massacre of puppies.

“You know how I feel about technology, Dean”, he said fiercely. “I can barely manage email, let alone all those horrible social networking pages that my students keep prattling on about. I'd be hopeless with a new phone. I'd probably manage to press the self-destruct button!”

“But I need to be in contact with my angel”, Dean purred seductively. “And that means you need a phone. Cas....”

“No!” His husband had that look on his face that said quite clearly that Dean was not going to win this one. Yet.....

+~+~+

It was Bobby who came up with a solution to the Phone Problem. He'd gotten a new phone himself recently, and he showed it to Dean, who borrowed it that evening to show Cas.”

“It's called a Doro”, Dean explained. “Just your basic phone, nice large buttons and virtually no extras. It's completely Cas-proof.”

His husband eyed him warily.

“That would be Doro, advertised on TV as 'Phones for Seniors', would it?” he asked archly.

Fuck!

“Yup”, Dean admitted, his voice definitely not at least an octave higher than normal. “What do you think?”

“I think”, Cas said with a slow smile, “that about thirty seconds from now, I'll be showing you just how 'senior' I really am!”

Dean fairly flew up those stairs!


	28. Wednesday 28th March

If he had been forced to admit it (on pain of loss of pie), Dean Winchester would had said that his husband's ability to cope with his own variable character made him the ideal person for everyone to turn to in time of trouble. 

Dean just wished they wouldn't do it an inconvenient times.

Dorothy had arrived at their front door tear-stained and bedraggled. Cas of course had guided her into the kitchen and started making her his special hot chocolate (Dean may or may not have been frantically putting his clothes on upstairs; thank heaven for frosted glass doors!), his perfect husband gradually coaxing their visitor's troubles out of her. 

Dean was just putting away his collar when he got the text from Charlie asking if Dorothy was with them. He replied that she was, and that Cas was dealing with matters in his usual efficient way. Though when she texted him back and told him they had been arguing about getting a cat, he did roll his eyes at her.

*And don't give me that look, Dean Winchester!*

Girl was freaky, sometimes. Dean sighed and went to join his husband. At least Dorothy looked a lot calmer now and it wasn't long before she left, promising to let him know how things went.

“So, agony aunt”, Dean grinned, “what's the diagnosis?”

Cas tutted at him.

“She and Charlie had agreed to get a cat, but the house they were looking at doesn't allow pets”, he explained. 

“Oh.”

“So I said they could keep it here.”

“What?”

Dean stared in horror at his husband. Cas knew he was severely allergic to cats. He wouldn't be so cruel....

Then he saw his husband's lip twitch, and knew that he'd been had. Again.

“Don't worry”, Cas smirked. “I have one collared animal in this house already, and that's more than enough!”

Dean pouted.


	29. Thursday 29th March

Cas had once told him that the saying that 'it never rains but it pours' was meteorologically inaccurate, as it frequently did rain without pouring. Damn literal-minded angel! Dean would have objected, but hearing Cas' graveled growl explain his reasoning always made him hard, something the guy knew full well because those discussions only ended one way.....

Dean began to wonder if he'd been had somewhere down the line. Not that he would have objected if that was the case, of course!

Unfortunately the old saying seemed determined to prove true this argumentative week, because that day they had the customer from Hell. Mr. Richard Roman ('Dick by name and dick by nature', Benny had scoffed) brought his turquoise Lincoln in because it was making an odd noise. It was very obviously the bearings, which on this model would have to be specially ordered in. And that was where the trouble began.

It was Dean's bad luck to be the guy who tried to explain to Mr. Bloody Awkward that that relatively minor noise would cost a whole heap of cash to be put right, and no, it could not be done 'just like that'. Unfortunately the concept of actually listening to what he was being told was, it quickly became clear, not one that this particular customer was able to grasp. At all. He talked over Dean constantly, and the mechanic's temperature steadily rose until finally he boiled over, telling the man to take his car elsewhere if he wanted a second opinion.

Dean fully expected to get a ticking-off from Bobby over losing them a potential customer, but fortunately his boss had overheard part of the exchange, and agreed that the man was no great loss. And Bobby must have let Cas know what had happened, because Dean had a call from him that afternoon that left him feeling a hell of a lot better. 

If things happened in Baby when he took that call, well, that was why Dean kept wipes in the glove-box.


	30. Friday 30th March

One of the many wonderful things about Cas was that he nearly always made Dean lunch. And not just a piece of questionable meat or some weird paste between two slices of bread lunch, but a fresh-baked bread roll containing the sort of combination meat and salad (shut up, Sammy!) that gave Dean a food orgasm every time he ate it, and made the guys at work even more jealous of his kick-ass husband.

Today Dean opened his lunch box to find a wrapped roll, a carton of fruit juice, a sealed bag of home-made chips and a smaller transparent container through whose frosted top he could clearly make out a slice of apple-pie. Score!

“Don't rub it in”, Benny grumbled. “Andrea's cooking is great, but I'm sending her over for lessons on making lunch from Cas.”

Dean flicked him off and picked up the container. There was something written in small print on the side, he noted:

'Exercise is good for you'.

Odd. Cas didn't usually send him messages in his lunch. He popped the plastic cover, took a sip and then unwrapped his roll. Sure enough, there was a second note inside it:

'This weekend is the last one of your Lent challenge.'

True, it was. Dean felt a pang of regret (Little Dean was probably planning a parade). At least until he found the third note inside the bag of chips:

'So I intend to go all out and push you to the limit!'

Not cool, Cas, Dean thought sharply. Getting a hard-on in the staff canteen.

He opened the pie container warily, but there was no slip of paper inside it. He relaxed – until he saw the pastry design Cas had done on the slice.

It was a butt-plug. Fuck!


	31. Saturday 31st March

Cas had mentioned some time ago that, as well as the weights Dean had in his little gym, his husband should also undertake more endurance training, like the running he himself did every day. Dean bore that in mind as he did his first sit-up, with Cas sat cross-legged beside him.

Jerking him off.

Oh yeah, and before starting, he had fucked Dean into his first orgasm of the day in short order, and then inserted the butt-plug which, he had dryly informed his husband, was staying in for most of the day. Dean could feel the thing working against his insides as he pulled himself up. Cas was trying to kill him!

“Not really”, his angel grinned, showing his usual but still freaky ability to read Dean's mind. “I'm not into necrophilia. Sit-ups are good for you, Dean.”

His husband's eyes watered as his cock twitched feebly, trying for another orgasm despite the fact that Dean was sure he'd drained his body of every bit of come by now. 

Thankfully Cas gave him an hour's rest after the sit-ups, even going so far as to feed his husband breakfast. Dean was almost feeling normal when Cas told him that next on the list was press-ups. Which Dean would have to do with Cas inside of him, draped all down his back.

The special ointment appeared earlier than usual that day.

Jogging with a butt-plus inside him was an experience Dean wanted to forget, especially as Cas kept teasing him with words and looks all the way round the estate. Dean was sure that, somehow, everyone he passed knew that the local weirdo was going round with a plug inside him. At least he didn't run into any of his friends. Though Cas had to use the ointment a second time once they got home.

Dinner turned out to be pizza, because by then Dean could not actually sit down without yelping in pain. But Cas 'kindly' helped take his mind off things by jerking him off repeatedly, until Dean finally passed out not only in front of the TV, but during an episode of Doctor Sexy! He didn't wake until eleven, to find Cas had made him as comfortable as possible, and he was able to limp upstairs with his husband's help. And of course, his ever unhelpful brain reminded him just before he dozed off.

Tomorrow was Sunday....


End file.
